


Letters

by Zerrat



Category: Final Fantasy Type-0
Genre: F/F, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, Pre-Femslash, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-17
Updated: 2012-04-17
Packaged: 2017-11-03 19:54:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/385270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zerrat/pseuds/Zerrat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just as the war begins to get to Seven, someone starts to leave her letters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Letters

**Author's Note:**

> Contains descriptions of war and violence and mental/emotional trauma resulting from exposure to it, and descriptions of symptoms verging on PTSD/ASD. While this is a darker fic and I don't try to gloss over symptoms, I have attempted to leave the story on a hopeful note. 
> 
> This was written prior to Type-0's international release and information/translation was very sparse, so I've kept the timeline fairly general as I'm not sure where the fic really fits in with the game's events.
> 
> EDIT 27 March 2015: Having finally played the English release, please excuse Sice's OOC for now. I'll conduct a revision to make her the abrasive smartass we all know and love soon!

The first time Seven found the hastily-scrawled note left under her pillow, it had been following a raid that had nearly seen the end of Class Zero. Her clothes still smelled of smoke and fighting and everything felt off-kilter in her mind. 

Seven knew that there were still some heated discussions taking place out in the hall, and she could hear King's and Ace's raised voices from where she lay on her bed. That night, they had come to the inevitable conclusion that maybe, _maybe_ the country they'd worked so hard to protect might just be gunning for Class Zero, too. 

Seven had not seen fit to remain, herself – she'd retreated quickly back to the safe haven of the dorm she shared with the other girls. No matter how important the discussion was, or how deep the corruption may run in Rubrum's government, it was better to preserve whatever was left of her sanity tonight. Seven could feel the adrenaline fading and now the seeping coldness was beginning to settle in. 

Her thoughts were still a dizzying swirl, trapped in flashes of sound and crawling tastes and the all-pervasive smell of blood – and that was when she'd felt the note.

Seven examined the slip of paper, before glancing cautiously around the empty dorm. There was no indication that the note wasn't intended for her. She hesitated in opening it, though, staring down at it and trying to forget the fact Eight had almost died in her arms today. The paper of the note was smudged and almost glossy, seeming to have been torn from a spare page in a textbook. The corners of the carefully-folded note were dog-eared, as if it had been carried around in a pocket for a week or two. 

The message itself was short, the unfamiliar and cramped scrawl taking up only a fraction of the thin paper. 

_"Keep smiling."_

There was no indication of who had sent it. Seven frowned down at the wad of paper, uncertain of what to make of the strange message or even if she should make anything of it at all. In the end, she shrugged and tossed it to the side. There was really no need to be concerned with it, unexpected as it had been.

###

Seven had begun to have trouble sleeping. Getting to sleep and staying there seemed beyond her as she she tossed and turned, feeling hot and restless, needing to move and feeling like she was barely able to breathe. Hazy sensation gnawed at the back of her mind as she lay in the dark, the taste of blood and the _noise_ rearing up from the shadows whenever she thought it was safe to finally rest. The nights seemed endless.

The others didn't know. The others didn't _need_ to know – it would only worry them and Seven knew that they had enough to deal with these days. Cater had almost lost an eye before she'd found a cure spell yesterday, and Jack had only just made it back from the mission today. In the grand scheme of things, complaining about a lack of sleep seemed minor, petty and wrong. 

Seven stayed quiet and didn't dare disturb the others as she sat, cross-legged on her bed and leaning heavily against the wall. She tilted her head and stared up at the darkened roof, thinking about Rem and Machina, how quickly they'd been lost to Class Zero and how there had been so little she'd been able to do for either of them. 

A note was crumpled in her hand, and this time it had been scrawled in red marker over half a page on Rubrum's history. It was the third note in as many days, and still Seven couldn't put a name to the sender. Not that it mattered, not that she even bothered opening those notes any more. Seven already knew what it would tell her, and stock feel-good phrases did not make her feel better. 

Seven squeezed her hand shut around the note, so clenching her fist so tightly that she felt the bones creak in her hand. She took a shaky breath, and then tossed the letter to the floor. Closing her eyes, Seven let her head tilt back to rest against the wall and she hugged her knees impulsively.

The notes stopped coming after that night. In spite of her lingering frustration, Seven wasn't sure how she felt about that.

###

The war stretched on, and the fractures grew more visible in the others now – in the way the edge had come into Ace's voice, how Eight started to lapse into stillness when he thought nobody was looking, the way Seven sometimes heard Deuce weep in the middle of the night. They tried so hard to keep it together, but ultimately they were as human as the soldiers they fought alongside. It didn't seem like Seven could bring herself to heap more worries and concerns on Ace, to bring it home just how badly Class Zero was suffering.

Back before everything, Seven had prided herself on her resilience and her compassion. Now, it was all she could do to keep moving forward through days that felt more and more surreal in the stark divide between war and the Academy, to pretend that nothing was really wrong for the sake of the others. Seven understood how they all felt, and so she tried to be the one thing she thought they needed. 

The charade was getting harder to maintain though, and sometimes when Seven went to battle her mind played tricks. Some things were worse than others, a fleeting sensation or a smell or even a thought. She might flinch, might _freeze,_ and sometimes it felt like surviving was even more frightening than dying. 

Of course it had been during a crucial battle that it had all come bubbling out from her iron-clad control. She'd squarely blocked the blow of a Milites soldier, but she'd heard Trey cry out and she'd frozen. Regurgitated images, mangled sounds and remembered feelings from battles gone by dizzied her, disorienting her. 

Seven had shaken her head to try to clear it, had put a hand to her temples and fought the desire to flee and curl up somewhere safe.

_"Watch out!"_

Seven thought it might have been Sice who'd shouted the warning, but by the time she'd looked up it had been half a breath too late and the Milites soldier was swinging his broadsword downward in a devastating diagonal slice. Seven threw her weapon up in a futile block – the broadsword smashed through her guard and bit into her bicep and shoulder. Seven's mind was consumed in white hot agony. 

She sank to her knees, cradling her arm and her weapon clattered down to somewhere behind her. The pain didn't last long. Maybe it was the terror, the blood loss, or maybe it was the stress finally getting the better of her. Hazy darkness claimed her quickly, and a part of her hoped it was the end.

###

Seven woke up in the infirmary, her head aching and her arm bandaged but somehow alive. It was night time and probably past curfew, if Seven hazarded a guess, and the infirmary around her was quiet and still. There would be no visitors until morning.

With a searing vividness, Seven remembered the Milites soldier rearing over her like a shadowy giant, and the memory seemed even more terrifying than what she knew reality to be. She'd lived to fight another day, lived to make the same mistake again. Seven let out her breath slowly, tilting her head back to stare at the darkened ceiling. Her shoulder ached. With no small amount of shame, Seven remembered what she'd wished in the moments before she'd passed out.

She felt awful that she'd even entertain those thoughts, guilty that a part of her genuinely felt that way. The soldiers who had died at her side did not get the chance to fight another day, to avenge their fallen. Never mind what her death would have done to the rest of Class Zero... 

The fingers of her good hand twisted in the white bedsheets, and Seven felt her jaw lock as rawness began in her throat. She tilted her head to look at the bedside table, searching for a distraction from her own thoughts. 

The top of the table was sparsely populated with a single white rose (from Jack, Seven supposed) the light novel she'd been reading prior to the mission (Deuce was nothing if not thoughtful), and a scrap of slightly glossy paper that had been roughly folded over three times. Seven's heart felt like it leapt up into her throat, and she grabbed the folded piece of paper heedless of the fresh pain in her shoulder. She opened it hastily – condescending as the notes had seemed before, she'd missed them.

The text on the back of the note seemed to be related to the effect of curaga spells on cellular biochemistry, but it was the message that mattered to Seven. The words were written in a hasty scrawl in the same red marker, in the same unfamiliar and unpracticed handwriting. 

_"I know it's hard. Please don't give up. Keep moving forwards with us, and one of us will always be here when you fall."_

It was cheesy, but... 

Seven's eyes felt raw, and for a while she buried her face in her hands, her harsh breathing slowly calming. Seven then folded the note over again, silent, and after a few moments hesitation, she tucked it back under her pillow. It was odd how well the note-maker knew Seven, knew exactly what she feared and how hard she'd been trying – and perhaps failing – to keep it together. Odd, still, that the message seemed to soothe her this time. 

Seven didn't sleep soundly that night, but her rest was better than it had been in a while.

###

Seven was discharged from the infirmary the next morning, and she left with her right arm in a sling and strict orders for her to be careful while the healing magic continued to knit her arm back together. The cut ran from her shoulder and slanted across her biceps, and still felt tender to touch. There was no need to keep her bedridden though, and it would be best that she quickly returned to her normal routine.

While she was never one to fault a medic, the confines of the infirmary's bed gave Seven far too much time to think without distraction and she welcomed the release.

Seven slowly made her way back to the dorm rooms. She had a small satchel slung over her good shoulder that contained her light novel and her sleepwear, and with the orders to take it easy still fresh in her mind, Seven intended to take the next few days slowly. In her blazer pocket, folded up into a tiny ball, was the note that she had found the night before. 

She still couldn't identify the sender, no matter how she'd stared at the awkward handwriting. A part of her suspected that the sender had used their left hand an attempt to disguise their identity, but Seven wasn't sure why that would even be needed. The latest note suggested that it came from within Class Zero-

A hand grabbed Seven's good shoulder from behind, and Seven very nearly backhanded Queen across the face before the searing panic subsided. Blinking rapidly to clear her head and still very much not okay with having been taken surprise like that, Seven looked at Queen in askance. 

"Seven! I hadn't believed you'd be released so soon..." Queen frowned, her dark eyes seeming to take in far too much. Had she seen how badly Seven had reacted? Seven bit the inside of her cheek and remained quiet. "Are you...?

Seven nodded quickly, not eager to proceed down that path of discussion, no matter how her hands hadn't stopped shaking as yet. 

Queen's expression began to relent after a moment, and she graciously dropped the topic as desired. "Very well. Even if you're up and about, Kurasame has it on good authority that you're not to push yourself. I'm sure you have other things you could be doing instead?"

"Of course." Seven wasn't sure what though, at this point. The light novel in her satchel was looking awfully attractive in terms of keeping her both distracted and rested.

"If you don't mind that Sice has commandeered the school library for past few weeks, you could always go there," Queen suggested almost thoughtfully. With that, Queen was gone, and Seven reached into her blazer pocket and felt the fragile wad of paper that had been carefully folded and placed in there. 

Suddenly, the light novel didn't seem nearly so interesting. It didn't take Seven long to make her decision and begin to head across the school grounds to the library.

###

Seven found Sice sprawled all over a two-seater couch at the back of the library, her boots propped up on the study table and a large book on her lap as she idly flicked through the pages. Seven looked down at the pile of library books staked by the side of the couch – _History of Suzaku Fiefdom of Rubrum, Ultima and You: A Guidebook, Cellular Biology and the Suzaku Crystal_ and more. Perhaps it had been obvious all along, if only Seven had looked in the right places.

Sice hadn't looked up as Seven approached. Best to get to the point, then. 

"You've been leaving me notes," Seven said without preamble, and tossed the note onto the couch beside the other girl. Sice didn't look up from the large textbook, made a small sound in her throat, and simply flicked a few more pages. 

That answer told Seven absolutely nothing, and she watched Sice idly scribble a few more notes on a notepad. 

"Why though?" Seven asked, tilting her head. Her old irritation with the condescending nature of the first few notes had faded, leaving her only with questions. Why her? Why had Sice started the notes on that night above all others? Why had Sice felt the need to say all of those things? Was Seven really coping that badly...? The suggestion that she could have been adding to the burden of her classmates sat badly with Seven, and she waited for Sice's answer.

Sice slowly closed the textbook in her lap and sighed. 

"I'm not so good with words," Sice told Seven, and her tone implied that that answer should explain everything. 

Seven supposed it did explain a few things – the tone issues present in the first handful of notes, and the fact that Sice hadn't said anything directly to Seven all this time. But if it was just as simple as that... Seven wondered if the messages held any significance at all for Sice, or if she was alone in her impression that they had been meaningful. Feeling a little disappointed, Seven turned to leave. 

"You looked like you needed it, though," Sice said, and Seven turned back. Sice met Seven's look for the first time since she'd been cornered. Seven wasn't really sure what to do then. Just turning her back and leaving Sice in the library seemed a little cavalier, and it wasn't like Seven had anything better to do. Seven bit her lip, weighing her options. 

"Do you mind if I sit with you and read?" Seven asked finally, and Sice nodded. 

Seven hesitated again, feeling awkward and unsure if she was really okay with it all. Sice watched her for a moment, blue eyes thoughtful as she tapped her cheek. 

"Remember. One step forward," Sice said, and Seven wasn't sure if she was meant to be laughing politely at the reference to those first few notes or not.

"Does the librarian know you've been mutilating textbooks?" Seven asked, and while Sice didn't verbally respond, she did raise an eyebrow at the pointed question and her body language implied that the activity would remain a secret if Seven had any sense of self-preservation. 

Sice flicked open her textbook again and busied herself, and suddenly the weight of her attention on Seven was gone. She could leave, Seven realised vaguely, or she could stay. There would be no pressure either way, no pretences to maintain. It was an odd thing to realise – maybe even a relief. Seven's decision was made quickly after that. 

Seven took the space on the couch on the left of Sice, careful not to knock her healing shoulder about as she removed the light novel from her bag. She let out a slightly shaky breath, trying to relax as she settled. It seemed, though, that every time she let her mind wander, something would jerk her away from the present and into something terrifying buried underneath. Seven looked down at the pages of the novel, not really seeing the words.

Sice cleared her throat again, and Seven shook her head slightly in an attempt to shake the crawling and omnipresent sensation of fear at the back of her mind. 

"You... asked 'why'. I care about you." Sice's words were blunt and honest, almost seeming casual about the whole thing. How much did she know of Seven's fears, and how much was just a guess? Sice seemed to have been coping with the war just fine, Seven noted with a hint of bitterness that she loathed herself for feeling. 

"What's your point?" Seven asked, staring past the novel and feeling her hands shake in spite of her control. 

"No point." Sice sighed, flicking through her textbook again. Seven wondered, then, if she was really reading the words or if she'd been using them as just a distraction. "Feelings aren't always the most rational things in the world."

"So you like me despite your better judgement. That's flattering," Seven said, trying to sound amused at Sice's blunder and only achieving 'cynical'. She rubbed a hand through her hair, feeling more tired than normal. Sice glanced across at her, seeming a little sad at Seven's reaction. 

"But true," Sice pointed out.

"But true," Seven conceded, appreciating Sice's honesty. "Thank you."

They were quiet for a time, Seven attempting to read her book and Sice reading up on magical arithmetic theory. There was the sudden sound of paper tearing, and Seven looked up sharply to see Sice writing over a page of equations with that same red marker. Seven frowned, not about to condone the continued vandalising of school property but admittedly curious as to what Sice was writing down. 

Sice finished her note quickly, folded the torn textbook page over three times and handed it over to Seven without flourish. Seven accepted the note, fumbling it open to see the message Sice had decided to leave for her. Seven's breath caught.

_"You're not alone."_

Something stirred in Seven's stomach as she stared down at the note for a long moment. Things weren't perfect. They were fighting a war, trying to get Operation Apostle to come into fruition and who knew what would occur between this moment and the next... Things were not fine, and Seven doubted that things would ever be 'fine' again. 

Seven looked down at the note in her hand, at the way the words had smudged now and how the red ink had rubbed off on her fingertips. She looked across at Sice, lounged in an undignified slouch next to her. Sice was there, she was waiting to talk and listen if Seven wanted it. Even if it wasn't today, it was something.

Seven smiled for what felt like the first time in weeks, and she slipped the new note into her blazer pocket.

**Author's Note:**

> For the record, I personally don't approve of vandalizing library property. Don't be like Sice. Treat books with respect.


End file.
